Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,16

that begged for secrecy, he lowered his voice to ask, “Did you know there are all different kinds of blue? It’s the moodiest color.”

Salali rolled his eyes to indicate Gent. “Tell me about it.”

With a sharp call, the blue jay beat his wings and might have stolen Salali’s hat if the squirrel hadn’t grabbed its brim with both hands.

“Is that what you see, Tenma Subaru?” he asked. “Am I a moody blue?”

Tenma was getting better at putting the things he saw into words. At helping people to understand the difference between what he saw and what it meant about them. So he dared to ask, “How long have you been friends?”

Salali sobered. “Long while. And then some.”

“That’s why.” Tenma studied the bird for a few moments and smiled. “Gent’s blue is a part of you now, and he’s taken on your hue. May I ask a personal question?”

“Go on, then.”

“Is your blaze a reddish-purple?” The squirrel’s expression was answer enough, and Tenma nodded. “When it’s bondmates, the colors usually blend, creating a whole new one. But with longtime friends, they trade. As if they’re each most on the other’s mind.”

“You are not the first to notice,” Salali said softly. As if he’d already known.

Tenma pushed at his glasses, trying to think. All this time, had the answers been here in Wardenclave? None of the clans had a record of someone like him. Oh, but … oh. Salali had said he had no clan. “You know about my secret?”

“First rule of keeping secrets is not letting anyone know you have one.”

It was a little like a taunt, but a little like confirmation.

Salali casually asked, “Who sees the unseen world in colors?”

“Only me.”

“Wrong.”

Tenma couldn’t believe it. Finally! “You know what I am? Are there others like me here?”

“Not here.” He lifted a finger. “Not yet. But she’s on her way.”

TEN

Share and Share Alike

People seemed to think Lilya didn’t understand that she and her brother were different. Which was both silly and true.

She and Kyrie had always been together. They’d shared their first day and her mother’s milk. They’d shared a crib, then a bedroom. Pets. Plans. Books. Biscuits. Siblings. Secrets. They even shared each other’s parents.

And then there was Ginkgo. He belonged to both of them. Not in a parent way, because Ginkgo was terrible at rules and manners and bedtimes and boundaries. But in his own way, because Ginkgo was wonderful about holding hands and making faces and midnight raids and leading adventures. This being the biggest of all.

Ginkgo tapped the top of her head. “Something on your mind?”

Lilya said, “You.”

“That explains the smile on your face.”

Which put one there.

He cleared his throat and said, “I was worried you two would be homesick.”

Kyrie tore his gaze from the passing scenery in order to check on Lilya. His eyes were more awake away from home. And not stuck to the pages of a book.

Slipping a hand into hers, Kyrie softly asked, “Mom wanted to know?”

“Nah. She’s got too much faith to fret.” Ginkgo’s fox ears dipped, and he pocketed his phone. “But you know Dad.”

“Send a picture,” suggested Kyrie.

Ginkgo wrinkled his nose. “And end his suspense?”

“If he is not sure we are safe, he will come and make sure.” Kyrie leaned into Lilya, composed and already posing. “You know Dad.”

Out came the phone, and they took enough goofy pictures to reassure Uncle Argent.

Lilya tugged Ginkgo’s sleeve. “Send them to Papka and Mum, too.”

“You got it, little girl.”

Not that her parents would be worrying, either. Maybe it was because they were used to the comings and goings of their children. There were six of them now—Darya, Timur, Isla, Annika, Lilya, and Vanya. And Ginkgo had told them a secret. That Papka and Mum would be adding another baby brother or sister to the family. By the time they returned home at the end of summer, they’d be able to tell that Mum was carrying.

Because of Lilya. That’s what everyone said.

They were trying again because of her.

Ginkgo tapped again and tweaked her ear for good measure. “Where’d that smile run off to?”

“Not far. Right here.” She leaned into him and shut her eyes against the future.

Kyrie whispered her name, and that gave her the courage to open them again.

“Right here,” she repeated, because if she had a choice, she always would be.

He smiled for her, a small smile that mostly lurked in his eyes. Careful and quiet, as if he were always surrounded by timid creatures who would startle and flee the moment they